chemistry
by clairebare
Summary: elements of attraction alert: language in last chapter
1. Chapter 1

The air marshals escort him off the plane.

I feel triumphant. Powerful.

Followed by weird.

The intrepid, impossible mentalist.

The one and only Patrick Jane has been brought to his knees by me.

Tears well in his eyes.

His voice quavers.

I'm glad he loves me but I'm kind of relieved they took him away.

I find I don't want to look into those broken eyes for one more second.

"I love her. Take care of her."

I wince when I hear it.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

I'm confused.

I just need time.


	2. Chapter 2

I walk into the interrogation room.

I see a flicker of surprise and then, that cocky gaze.

Not a quivering lower lip in sight.

Thank god.

Airplane Patrick was an aberration. A blip.

Have to make sure.

We joust for a bit.

"We are talking about pickles, right?"

Yep, the bastard is definitely back and worse than ever.

I feel happy, relieved.

But there's a little test I need to perform first.

Like checking to see if a vampire has a reflection.

Here goes.

"Say it again," I say.

The only response I get is an unblinking sea green stare.

Did I start speaking Portuguese here?

But I know Patrick Jane and the imperative tense do not go together.

Instead of even acknowledging my suggestion, he comes over the table and kisses me.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Despite the ruckus from the peanut gallery, he's not letting up.

"Say it again," I say.

Just making sure he hasn't been replaced by some pousse café of a skyjacker.

He puts his tongue in my mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

A moment later, the pissy guard comes in and tells Jane he's free to leave.

We walk out together. Abbott and Cho are waiting in the airport terminal.

"Jane," Abbott says, "you and I are going to have a serious sit down and-"

Jane, his arm draped over my shoulders, saunters…well walks with as much insolence as one can muster with a bum ankle…right past Abbott.

We're swallowed by the revolving door and disgorged just as a yellow taxi pulls up.

"Jane, we really ought to—"

I look back at Abbott and Cho as Jane assists me into the cab by placing his hand on my head perp-style.

"Get in there," he says. He waves to Abbott and Cho.

"Blue Bird Inn, and put your foot down."

The cabbie takes off.

Jane plops his curls on my not so commodious bosom and falls asleep.

I freeze. It's like when a particularly undemonstrative pet chooses you as a pillow.

There's a crooked grin on my face the whole ride back.


	4. Chapter 4

While hauling Jane up the stairs of the Blue Bird Inn, he makes what looks like a time out sign with his hands to the woman at the desk.

All becomes clear as I struggle with the key, my duffle and the hundred and sixty pound vestigial appendage draped over my shoulders.

A waiter carrying a tea tray passes us in the hall and opens the door.

Now I understand the time out sign to the desk lady. Jane ordered tea on his way in.

The waiter helps me deposit him on the bed.

Though Jane seems barely conscious, he has a twenty at the ready for the guy. He's the James Bond of tips is Patrick Jane. Smooth.

I survey the tray. Appears Jane not only gave the woman the tea sign but also the coffee and scrambled eggs and bacon sign. Plus, the international hand signals for corn muffins, miniature bear claws and fresh pineapple. My favorites.

How the hell? Did he pre-plan this breakfast?

Like before he left for the airport?

Jane snakes his arm around my waist pulling me to sit next to him on the bed.

With the other hand, he picks up the house phone.

"Hi, I made a booking for two. Could you put us out on the terrace? It's more romantic. Patrick. Lovely. See you then."

Can a mouth be ajar?

"Don't worry," he says. "I wouldn't seduce you over a meal. That would be very sophomoric."

I stand and stare at him with my fists clenched.

"Bite me," I say.

He smiles.

He folds something carefully and places it on the nightstand.

My bra.


	5. Chapter 5

"Did you just take my bra off, Jane?"

"Course not, Lisbon. I removed it in the taxi."

Jackass.

"Why would you do that?"

He gives me the hairy eyeball.

"Well, Teresa. When a man and a woman have certain feelings for one another, they—"

"Stop that, Jane. Can't you be serious?"

"I can be anything you want, Teresa. I think I proved that."

What the hell does that mean?

"What the hell does that mean, Jane?"

He slides off the bed and sinks to his knees before me.

He takes my hands.

"Teresa. Darling."

He buries a slow gentle kiss in my right palm. His soulful eyes look up at me.

My legs don't seem inclined to hold me upright.

He deftly opens the bottom two buttons of my blouse and presses his lips to my bare midriff.

I could join him on the floor. But I'm liking where his head is.

He plants a hot one deep in my navel. Oh god. It's like he just completed an electrical circuit.

His arms wrap around my thighs.

"You saved me, Teresa. Without you, I'd be lost; nothing."

Nothing? Eww. Feh. I wriggle away from him.

"What's wrong, my love?"

"I…I don't want to be the reason you're not nothing."

The bastard grins.


	6. Chapter 6

"Is sex dirty?

Only if you're doing it right." – Woody Allen.

I've got Patrick Jane on his knees in front of me nuzzling my navel.

Sublime.

Then the bastard has to go and say he's nothing without me.

I transform from turned-on to queasy in four-fifths of a second.

"Why so glum, Teresa? I thought you'd find all this romantic."

"Come on, Jane. What woman wants a man reduced to nothingness?"

He unbuttons the rest of my blouse and lets it drop open.

"Nonsense. This should be a triumph for Lisbon-kind. You get to show the wayward lamb the error of his ways. Through you, he finds redemption. Walks the path of the righteous. He makes an Oprah-worthy public declaration in the third act. Everyone on the plane goes home with a year's worth of Mary Kay cosmetics. It's a surefire romcom spec sale. Maybe in the high sixes."

"Dammit, Jane." I say. "I just want you to be a normal human being."

"Pffft. No you don't, Teresa."

He shakes his beautiful, amused head.

"You don't know anything about yourself, do you?"

Experimentally, he nibbles my hipbone and whispers, "All I want is to be worthy of your love."

Yeccch.

Another big cheeky smile.

"See? You're close to puking right now, aren't you?"

I giggle.

"Go fuck yourself, Jane."

He stands and wraps his arms around me. Fixes me with his crystal eyes.

"When I first got back from Venezuela, I tried being confident. You resented that. When you told me to back off, I tried obeying you. That made you livid. Then I tried biding my time while you dallied with Pike. I even professed my selfless desire for your happiness - the stuff of daytime Emmy's. That got you royally pissed. Then I orchestrated a seduction complete with adjoining rooms, couture wardrobe and vintage car. And you got insulted and threw water on me. Finally, I tried boarding a plane and blubbering like a big girl's blouse and got nothing but nauseated glances for my trouble. If you insist my only option is to go fuck myself, I suppose, at this point, it's worth a try."

The bastard reaches into his pants pocket, pulls out my boy shorts and places them next to my bra on the nightstand.

How the hell?

"Now where were we, Teresa?"

"I don't know, Jane. Something about you and the word, fuck."

"You'll just have to talk me through it. I really want to get it right this time."

"Tell me about it," I say.


End file.
